Editor note: foul language in used sporadically and necessarily.

IT’S BEEN A YEAR since I blogged, and not because I didn’t have anything to write. Basically, I couldn’t pull the words from my mucky brain and put my fingers to the keyboard.

Like so many people this last year, I lost my ability to do things that used to be pleasurable, like writing. It wasn’t for the pandemic lockdown; it was my mental lockdown. Many of us suffered from the unknown and the loss of normalcy. I, for one, was carrying so much anxiety and stress my brain kept pausing, and it was hard to restart. Like my 2015 MacBook Pro. Anyway, to do daily functions was one thing, but writing and being creative was another. The most significant pressure I felt was to act okay even when things were not okay.

See, I was brought up with token comments in which a lot of us were given by our parents. It was their way to encourage us as well as to remind us not to complain. The latter being the main one, I’m sure. My mom grew up during the depression, and my dad was a two-time war veteran (WWII & Korea), so there was no room for complaining in their eyes. Here are some of their good one-liners in which I’m sure you’ve maybe heard from your parents or society, too. Here we go: Oh, you’ll be just fine. Hey, it isn’t as bad as it seems. You don’t have it so bad. The best one: Other people have it far worse. And you know what? Some people DID and DO have it far worse, but I’m not living in their shoes. I have deep sympathy or empathy for them depending on their situation, but at the expense of acknowledging my pain? Sorry Mom and Dad, but this past year sucked, and I’m tired of acting like it didn’t. Things were as bad as they seem.

I got a trifecta punch last year:

1. January 2020, a stage 2 breast cancer diagnosis.
2. March 2020, COVID shut down the world.
3. April 2020, I lost my job due to COVID layoffs. 

I am always one to find silver linings in things. I even blogged about it around this time last year, but what I’ve discovered is, it’s easy to find the silver lining at the beginning of a marathon (2020), not so much by the 24th mile (now). By this point, I’m like, okay, some people have it far worse, but I’m tired of putting on my marathon face that I’m okay. Some days, A LOT OF DAYS, I’m just not. How about you?

So, I’m going to write from a very transparent place. Not that I didn’t before, but I did it under the guise, like most of us do, that we don’t want to complain or be negative. Before today, I always felt like I needed to sound hopeful. Be optimistic. But I have been at this Cancer, COVID, job loss thing for a year now, and it sucks. It has tested and tried me. It has made me question my sanity, body, health, faith, friends, medical professionals, and family. At times, it has broken my heart and killed my finances. Cancer is not cheap. Not in the US anyway.

Before 2020, I was a person with a strong level of anxiety from years of loss, genetics, stress. Name it—General Anxiety Disorder and then some. I’ll admit to it now. For a time, I didn’t admit it because I didn’t want to seem vulnerable or have any discussable mental issues. Or be negative! Well, screw that. I’m human. In the past I managed the anxiety with meditation, medication, Yoga, distractions, working, playing live music, etc., and staying upbeat. I can be very optimistic to a fault. I’m a whistle while I work person until 2020 HIT. I tell you, if you don’t deal/process losses and heartbreaks, truths, they’ll come crashing in when you’re hit with something like a trifecta. Suddenly, you need ALL your emotional and mental resources, and what if they are tapped?

My trifecta last year resurrected a lot of fear, anxiety, and depression in me that I thought I had dealt with. When you’re given a cancer diagnosis, and you realize, “Oh shit, I can die?” it brings a lot to the surface. Things like old fears, regrets. Am I doing what I’m supposed to do with my life? Have I been the best parent? All of it comes crashing in. And then you get stuck at home because of the pandemic and lose your job. Now it’s like, oh shit, I’m stuck at home with myself and I’m not sure I even know who is looking back in my reflection because I’m not familiar with her or anything right now! Yet, she is the woman I need to fight for! I kept thinking, this is fucked up. But I’d forge ahead with gusto ’cause I figured if that’s all I have, this reflection and memories of my parents telling me I don’t have it so bad, I will fight. But gusto does fade.

And hey, of course, I knew I could die. Overall. Generally. BUT it doesn’t come into complete focus on our mortality until this type of diagnosis. Or COVID taping on all our shoulders. Suddenly, we all became very vulnerable. A caveat…not all cancer is a guarantee of death, nor is COVID. It doesn’t have to be that grim, BUT it sure can feel like it when you’re alone, away from familiar places, people, and family (due to pandemic, of course). And with cancer, the doctors paint it that way. Grim. It’s terrifying. 

I was alone when I received the diagnosis and treatment plans, and it still rocks me to this day. At that time, I realized how much I missed my mom and dad—the ones who used to tell me that things aren’t as bad as they seem. I then needed them to say that exact thing, while sitting there shuttering and crying, in that doctor’s office, even though I knew their comment was bullshit, on some level. But maybe it would’ve made me feel better? Maybe that was my parent’s intention all along?

My parents are gone. My dad passed in 2006, my mom in 2016. They are some of the losses I speak of above. I guess we never stop needing our parents, especially if we were close to them and when something extremely unsettling happens like my trifecta. But during those times of being alone, I also realized how strong my parents made me. I handled the situation. All of it. I’m still handling it. But I’m getting tired. And annoyed, frustrated, angry, beaten. Sound familiar with anything you’re feeling with COVID, etc.? Again…the marathon analogy. We are effective and strong at the beginning of a marathon, but closer to the end, we struggle. Unless we’ve run a ton of marathons. I hadn’t run this specific marathon before.

I wish I would have paced myself in the beginning of 2020, but I didn’t know any better. Did any of us foresee an end to the pandemic? We still don’t! But speaking of the end…is there an end with cancer? The doctors say I’m clear because of recent blood tests and scans but for how long? I’ll need scans again the end of this year. And I’m still in treatments. Oops…stay positive and uplifted, Laurie! 

The cancer doctors toss a lot of statistics at the situation because that’s all they have. From what the doctors say, I need to make it to ten years to not worry about a reoccurrence. Ten years of worrying about this?! And even then, it’s no guarantee. Cancer can still come back. Talk about the importance of living in the NOW! My oncologist told me that I need to go on with life like normal, except with better attention to my health, of course. But, uhm…there is nothing ordinary about a post-cancer, pandemic, jobless world. But my optimism says, “Sure there is Laurie, just find it.” This much I know is true. I always adapt.

Okay, there have been fantastic things that happened in the past year. I can see the beauty too. Still, I would rather have had these things happen WITHOUT cancer, pandemic, and a job loss. I mean, come on! Sure, I’m grateful for what I have, but again I’m tired. Have I said tired enough? So here are my “fantastic” from this past year:

The pandemic time off has given me the chance to incorporate a new healthy anti-cancer lifestyle. That’s a big bonus. HUGE! Can I say a new Vegan diet! LOVE it. Well, not all the time. I am transparent here! I’m craving a giant Wisconsin beer bratwurst right now and cheese sticks. Add in some chocolate cake. But I digress.

I wasn’t looking for it, but I fell in love in May of last year, and I must say for as scared as I was at the start of the cancer journey in January, this man swooped in and had taken care of me like I could not have imagined. He was and still is one of the greatest gifts of 2020. He’s a fighter in the ring and out, and he continues to show me how I can be too. Well, not in the ring. I leave the Muay Thai to him.

I started a new creative writing project that has brought me joy, laughter, and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can still have a future as a writer, creator, and entertainer. If cancer doesn’t get me, that is. See! This is the shit people with cancer, and other life-threatening diseases have running through their heads at first. I want to laugh at my comment ’cause it’s morose but true. I assume this dramatic thinking will too pass as the years go on and I move beyond the marathon.

I adopted two kittens who have rocked my world. A boy and a girl. Siblings. I named them after my favorite singers, Freddie Mercury and Annie Lennox. The cats are sweet, gorgeous, a little wild, and a great distraction to anyone’s woes of life.

I have regained my faith in Jesus, and in these times of despair, I do lean on my faith, but dang under such turmoil, sometimes I lost my focus on showing up. So, I trust God has me.

I’ve become much closer to my 18-year-old son. He is such a strong young man. When I complain, he tells me like it is, and wow, he’s an old soul and smart as a whip, very much like my dad. Sometimes my son says, “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about cancer so much.” I could take his comment as dismissive or up-lifting. I choose up-lifting but I can’t help hear my dad’s voice when my son speaks.

So, as I reflect on this past year and my see-saw of emotions, I’m going to be simply honest: it’s exhausting always to be grateful and positive. To act like everything is okay, to stuff real, raw feelings down. Especially at the 20th mile. Or 24? I don’t even know what mile I’m on. My doctor says its an eternal marathon. He’s probably correct.

I didn’t want to jump on the fuckcancer hashtag bandwagon because I thought I would become a victim of the saying. Well, shoot, some of this cancer stuff IS out of my control. But I also realized my diagnosis and treatment was a walk in the park compared to others, so I didn’t want to take on their more deserved banner. Some others DO have it worse. But as time has gone on, I’m on their team, and they are on mine. We didn’t ask for this. And it sucks for all of us. And it all has worn me down, so yea, #fuckcancer. And #FUCKCOVID too. Too many people have been affected by it. It’s messed up. And that job loss of mine, well, if losing that job brings me closer to my true calling of writing, creating, and performing…that I’ll take. 

Is there a silver lining for me a year later? I don’t know. Is there for you and your journey? I know my mental health has taken a beating, BUT I AM better for all this, and I would not want to be the woman I was a year ago or even three years ago. I’m starting to like my reflection again. I don’t know her fully yet, but I am falling in love with her all over again. And she’s got marathoner written all over her face.

P.S. My reflection photo used here was taken at beginning of the marathon. February 2020, after my first surgery. Yes, I had a clueless grin. I was trying to be okay. 😉

© Laurie Markvart 2021